


Bent

by fuzipenguin



Series: Well Kept [17]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Derogatory Language, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Other, Slapping, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Twincest, sparksitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sideswipe gives orders. Sometimes Jazz obeys them. When he does, he's rewarded handsomely</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracoqueen22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/gifts).



> Prompt fill for dracoqueen22's request of "kinky Dom!Sideswipe/Sub!Jazz, 'bend over backward"  
> Set far in the future of the 'Well Kept' series

                Breathing was over rated, Jazz decided.

                If he had been an organic, he would have had to beg for breath by now. As it was, he could barely swallow rapidly enough to keep up with the copious flow of lubricant from the valve plastered against his mouth.

                They had started out with Sideswipe kneeling over Jazz’s head and leaning backwards, weight supported on palms pressed against Jazz’s chest. Jazz had had to strain upwards against the bonds around his throat in order to reach Sideswipe’s valve, becoming more and more light headed as the energon lines in his neck were compressed by the stretch. After a few minutes however, Sideswipe had pushed himself upright, spreading his thighs farther apart and dropping his weight down completely to grind his anterior node against Jazz’s nasal ridge.

                Sideswipe was spewing filthy encouragements down at him, although Jazz wasn’t really doing much at this point except providing a point of contact for Sideswipe to rub himself off upon. Not that Jazz minded; in fact, he loved it: the hot ozone scent of lubricant drenching his face, the flex of powerful thighs on either side of his helm. He rather liked eating out valve, but this was even better – his entire world the valve grinding down roughly against his face.

                “Fuck, that’s good,” Sideswipe moaned above him. “Do… do the humming thing.”

                Jazz tilted his chin up as much as he could and began subvocally singing, the position causing vibrations to travel from his throat up through his lipplates. Sideswipe rocked harder against Jazz’s mouth, pelvis jerking in fitful, little circles.

                On one grind, Sideswipe’s anterior node brushed over Jazz’s lips and he chased after it, clamping down and suckling hard while still humming. Sideswipe moaned sharply in response, a hand gripping one of Jazz’s sensitive audial horns. He gasped at the sudden burst of sensation, momentarily releasing the heated nubbin from his mouth. At the irritated engine rev and warning squeeze from Sideswipe’s hand, Jazz hurriedly recaptured the pulsing node, humming louder in apology. Jazz should know better; this wasn’t about him at all, only his master’s pleasure.

                “Oh, _frag_ ,” Sideswipe whispered, bearing down so hard Jazz had an instant’s fear that his visor might crack. “Yeah, that’s it, come on, come…”

                Sideswipe stilled for a long moment before grunting, his hips making helpless spasms against Jazz’s face. A rush of lubricant overflowed Jazz’s mouth and trickled down his cheeks to pool beneath his helm. His interface array ached in sympathy, and he licked soothingly at the node still trapped between his lips.

                The grip on Jazz’s audial horn turned into a caress, fingers tweaking the tip before releasing him. Sideswipe rocked against Jazz once more before drawing back. He slid to the side, landing on his hip with one leg still draped across Jazz’s chest.

                “Oh, little worm… that was _nice_ ,” Sideswipe commented, plating flared to dispel the built up heat. Jazz turned his head to watch his master, glossa flicking over his lips to try and clean himself. Drops of lubricant were seeping beneath his visor, and he desperately wished he could wipe them away.      

                “But look at you,” Sideswipe continued, squirming around until he could lean against Jazz’s side. “You’re a mess.”

                Sideswipe touched Jazz’s face, fingers idly playing in the slick substance beginning to go tacky.

                “I’m sorry, sir,” Jazz slurred, his cooling fans whirling. His lower body had been exposed, but his head and shoulders had absorbed quite a bit of the heat put off by Sideswipe, and it continued to make his head spin.

                “Well, I would tell you to clean yourself up, but that’s a little impossible right now,” Sideswipe lamented, gazing over Jazz’s trussed up body. Jazz wriggled in his bonds, fingers stretching uselessly. A trickle of lubricant had just found its way to his left optic and it itched like crazy.

                “I rather like this wedge, don’t you?” Sideswipe asked, trailing a hand down Jazz’s arched body.

                The padded pillow was new to their play and obviously custom made. His head was cradled in an indentation at one end, while his shoulders were elevated a few inches above his helm due to the sharp arch in the center of the pillow. The arch gentled at the opposite end of the wedge, his pelvis slightly lower than his chest. Indentations on the underside of the pillow fit his tucked under legs perfectly, a hump on top supporting his aft and spreading his thighs for easy access to his array. His knees rested on the berth surface, arms and hands pulled down and bound to the sides of the pillow with straps that matched those that anchored his neck, chest, belly, and thighs.

                Jazz had only been on the wedge for the past hour, but he could already feel the strain in his shoulders, hips, and ankles where his own weight was putting pressure on the joints. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t quite comfortable either. Jazz adored it.

                “Yes, sir, I like it too,” Jazz replied truthfully.

                Sideswipe smiled gently. “I thought you might. Release your visor catches, please. You may offline your optics.”

                With a sound of relief, Jazz did as asked, feeling Sideswipe remove his visor. There was a rustle and motion above his head that suggested Sideswipe was cleaning off his visor, for which Jazz was thankful. It was a sensitive piece of equipment and one that required a lot of care. Sideswipe would fist Jazz with his full strength, but always made sure to be careful around the specialized optical unit.

                “Primus on a pogo stick; how did all of this get under here?” Sideswipe muttered.

                “You leak a lot of lubricant, sir. And with the angle, it… ah!” Jazz jolted in place as Sideswipe slapped the side of his face. The smack was relatively light and lower on his cheek, but without his visor, his unprotected optics felt fragile and vulnerable.

                “That was rhetorical, worm,” Sideswipe remarked, tone steely. Jazz trembled, fighting the urge to turn his head away in a weak attempt to protect his optics. The air shifted above him again, and a hand gripped his chin.

                 Something wet and rough swiped a path under his right optic and he flinched, whimpering.

                 “Hold still, Jazz,” Sideswipe ordered. It took every ounce of Jazz’s willpower to do so, but that was a direct command and to disobey would result in dire consequences. Besides, Jazz realized after a moment Sideswipe was only cleaning up Jazz’s face with some kind of rag, touches light and careful.

                 It was actually kind of soothing, and Jazz began to purr as his entire face was wiped down, engine rumbling happily. Sideswipe always took the best care of him and it both warmed his spark and made his interface panel ache.    

                “Silly little worm,” Sideswipe said softly, taking another cloth and drying Jazz’s face. He carefully replaced the visor with gentle hands. “Lock that in place and online your optics. Any errors?”

                Jazz blinked his optic shutters several times, seeing Sideswipe come into focus and staring down Jazz with concern.

                “No errors, sir,” Jazz replied, feeling much better.

                “Good!” Sideswipe chirped. In the next instant, his hand shot out and wrapped around Jazz’s throat, claw tips digging between the protective plating to scrape up against Jazz’s main energon line. “Was that a complaint earlier? About how much lubricant I produce?”

                Jazz gurgled and flailed as much as his bonds allowed. Which was really very little, to be honest. “No! Nnno, sssir!”

                “I didn’t think so. Because I propose that I leak as much lubricant as the next mech, and you were just too slow to lap it up. So really, the mess on your face was your own fault, and I did you a favor by cleaning you up. Isn’t that right?” Sideswipe asked mildly.

                “Yessssir! ‘m sorry, ssir!” Jazz lisped, vocalizer compressed by Sideswipe’s steel grip.

                “You damn right you are. Now you’re gonna make it up to me. Open,” Sideswipe commanded, releasing Jazz’s throat and thumping him on the chest.

                Oh, thank Primus, Jazz thought with relief. His panels popped, spike actually scraping against the side of its retracting cover as it rapidly sprang free from its confines. Jazz’s valve was no better, immediately clenching on nothing as the cooler air washed over its heated components.

                Rising up on his knees, Sideswipe looked down at Jazz’s pelvis in surprise. “Why, thank you, Jazz. This _does_ belong to me,” he said, sliding a hand between Jazz’s legs and cupping his array with one big palm. “But that’s not what I meant.”

                Jazz’s moan cut off and his optics spiraled wide in fear. Oh slag. Sideswipe had expressly commanded him to not reveal his equipment until told to do so and he had just disobeyed. What _had_ Sideswipe meant? Would Jazz be punished?

                “Ss…ssir?”

                “I suppose I wasn’t specific enough,” Sideswipe mused, gazing idly down at Jazz’s interface array. He stroked across the surface of Jazz’s valve like a human absently petting a cat. “Open your chestplates.”

                Jazz stared at his master, dismayed. His entire frame began to tremble. His chestplates?

                Sideswipe quirked his head to the side, hand leaving Jazz’s valve to wrap around his spike. The hand began squeezing, the grip quickly turning from pleasure to discomfort and verging on pain in seconds.

                “What are you waiting for, worm?” Sideswipe asked softly. His optics glittered dangerously.

                Jazz threw open his chestplates so quickly that they shuddered as they slid aside, throbbing in complaint.

                Sideswipe fit himself between Jazz’s legs and leaned over him, fingers smoothing along the edges of the retracted plating. “Good. Now open your spark chamber.”

               Jazz whined, beginning to pant. Nevertheless, he did as his master instructed, the trembling increasing. He hated exposing his spark, _hated_ it. Even with Ratchet, whom he trusted implicitly when it came to repairs. And it wasn’t if he hadn’t shown his spark to Sideswipe before, but there was a certain vulnerability to it that made each time no easier to bear than the last.  

               “Good, Jazz. Very good,” Sideswipe whispered, bending to place a kiss on Jazz’s belly. He pressed against Jazz’s crotch, the hard length of Sideswipe’s spike sliding against the wet lips of Jazz’s valve.

               “Now open your spark casing,” Sideswipe said, his expression hungry as he began rocking against Jazz’s pelvis.

               “Please, sir. Please, no,” Jazz whimpered, fingers clenching on nothing but air.

               Sideswipe’s expression softened and he reached into Jazz’s chest, lightly touching the thin cover surrounding his spark. “’No?’” he questioned. “These casings are so thin. So fragile.”

               A sharp claw tip traced the glyph of Sideswipe’s name in the casing surface and the meaning in his gaze was quite clear when his optics met Jazz’s. Jazz really didn’t think Sideswipe would actually break through Jazz’s spark casing to reach his spark, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. His spark casing slid aside with barely a whisper, leaving his spark floating freely in his chest cavity.

               “Beautiful,” Sideswipe whispered, his face awash in the glow of sky-blue sparklight. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His hand hovered in the air above Jazz’s spark and his index finger dipped down, swirling through the outermost tendrils. Jazz jerked in his bonds, chest trying to arch upwards. Oh, he hated his spark exposed… but the things Sideswipe could do with it once it was unprotected often made him forget that for a time.

               “Now,” Sideswipe announced, pushing himself upright once more and placing his hands on Jazz’s hips. “How fast do you think you can reach overload?”

               Sideswipe took his spike in hand, and placed the tip at Jazz’s valve, rubbing against the throbbing entrance. The internal calipers hungrily spiraled down on nothing, trying their best to suck in the spike head and ease the ache of emptiness.

               “Soon, sir,” Jazz moaned as Sideswipe took hold of Jazz’s spike and began stroking it roughly.

               “Good! Then let’s time it. You tell me when you’re… _mmm_ … close," Sideswipe groaned, abruptly snapping his hips forward and sinking deep into Jazz’s valve. “And keep your spark open.”

               Sideswipe set up a brutally fast pace, thrusting into Jazz’s valve with shallow strokes that rubbed incessantly over his anterior node and essentially set it on fire. His spike was stimulated just as ruthlessly, the pace of the strokes and tightness of Sideswipe’s grip a perfect combination seemingly intended to get Jazz off as quickly as possible.

 _Oh_ , it worked too. Embarrassingly, it took less than a minute for Jazz to speak up. “Nn… now, ssir!” he shouted, the first tingles of overload building in the pit of his belly.

               In response, Sideswipe pulled out from Jazz’s valve, clamping down painfully around the base of Jazz’s spike. Jazz wailed as his rising charge abruptly stalled.

               “Please, please!” Jazz begged, fingers reaching uselessly for his master.

               Sideswipe sat on the heels of his pedes, ventilating harshly and holding the base of his own spike. “Please? Please what? Let you overload?”

               He scoffed. “I didn’t say you could, now did I? Maybe next time you won’t resist my commands or deliberately misinterpret my instructions.”

               Jazz wildly shook his head from side to side in denial. “I didn’t… wasn’t!”

               Sideswipe released both of their spikes and pushed himself upright, clambering over Jazz’s legs to sit heavily on Jazz’s belly.

               “Shut up!” Sideswipe snarled, reaching behind him to slap Jazz’s spike. “The next time I tell you to ‘open’ and I touch your chest, I expect you to know what I mean. And if I give you an order to show me your spark, I anticipate being obeyed! I think I let you off rather lightly for those offenses.”

               “Yesir!” Jazz sobbed, his entire array aching painfully with denied release and disagreeing quite vehemently. His processor, on the other hand, knew Sideswipe could have punished him much more severely. Sideswipe did not like to be disobeyed. “Thank you, sir!”

               “At least you kept your spark open,” Sideswipe commented, leaning over to peer within Jazz’s chest cavity. “Did you know your spark darkens when you’re close to coming?”

               Jazz tried to crane his head up to look, but couldn’t quite manage with the angle. “No, sir,” he said, dropping his head back down and shifting restlessly. His spike _hurt_ and his valve was so _empty_ …  

               “Gets hotter, too,” Sideswipe added, holding his palm over the pulsing ball of energy. Jazz gave a loud cry at the action, pleasure shooting through him. Oh, _please_ … he just wanted to _overload_.

               “Hmm…” Sideswipe said thoughtfully. “What’s your safe word, Jazz?”

               Startled, Jazz stilled and licked his lips.

               Sideswipe only reminded Jazz of the safeword when he was about to do something they hadn’t discussed prior to their session. He did that every now and then, the surprise causing a certain anxiety that always ramped Jazz up even more. He had never once safeworded though, knowing Sideswipe tirelessly researched all his ideas, safety utmost in his processor. “Quarter, sir.”

              “Good. Remember it,” Sideswipe said, raising himself up on his knees and shuffling forward.

              Jazz watched with wide optics as his master positioned himself, groin hovering a foot above Jazz’s spark. Sideswipe’s valve was puffy and shiny, lubricant beading up around the edges. Jazz stopped ventilating as one fluid drop became larger than the others and hung at the rim for several seconds before breaking away. He flinched as the drop fell towards his spark, only to moan helplessly as it made contact with the outer tendrils, evaporating almost immediately. It left behind a spreading tingle that made his fists tighten.

              Sideswipe had watched as well, pulling his spike out of the way to get a full view. He raised his optics to meet Jazz’s and a slow smirk spread across his master’s face.

              “Yeah,” he said. “This is gonna be _good_.”

              The next moment, he dropped down, inner legs meeting Jazz’s spread chestplates. Sideswipe and Jazz moaned in unison, Sideswipe’s thighs clamping down around Jazz’s chest as spark met valve.

               Jazz didn’t think the two were in immediate contact; he couldn’t see, of course, but he suspected that the spark energies would be too painful directly against such delicate components as a valve. But, oh, that bubble of heat and energy surrounding his spark? The one that Sideswipe loved to dip his fingers in, causing delightful ripples that cascaded into the center of Jazz’s very being?

               Yeah. That sphere was registering things he didn’t know a spark could even feel, and Jazz _writhed_ at the alien influx of sensation, mouth agape.

               Above him, Sideswipe had thrown his head back, his plating ruffling uncontrollably. “Ohhhh…” he moaned, ventilating hard. “Oh _fuck_. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. _Primus_.”

               Jazz agreed with the sentiment wholesparkedly.

               Then Sideswipe _moved_ , a slow slide of his valve up and down across that corona and Jazz shrieked, vocalizer fritzing and then offlining with a burst of static. It felt like his spark was being massaged, compacted down small, and stretched wide all at the same time. It resonated down to his protoform, triggered his spike to overload without stimulation, and made him seriously think he might die.

                Sideswipe choked out something unintelligible, falling forward and landing on his palms above Jazz’s head. He arched backwards, his pelvis bearing down to probably press his anterior node against Jazz’s spark.

                Jazz didn’t care.

                All he knew was that the extra pressure caused Jazz’s entire frame to seize for a long moment and then shake violently as his spark contracted down tight before exploding. If his vocalizer had been working, he would have screamed the Ark down, and wouldn’t that be something to explain when the others broke open Jazz’s door?

                The _painpleasureburningacherelease_ went on and on and on, becoming his entire world, and only abating when the weight on his chest was removed. His spark continued to throb, feeling swollen and achy, much like an anterior node after multiple valve overloads. Did his spark overload? Could that even happen?

                Movement out of the corner of his visor coalesced into his master kneeling next to him, unfastening his bonds. His limbs were nonresponsive, and Sideswipe had to ease the wedge out from underneath him, repositioning his legs and arms in a more natural pose.

                “Jazz? Jazz, look at me,” Sideswipe commanded. Jazz realized that his gaze had aimlessly meandered to the ceiling and with a herculean effort, he redirected his stare to Sideswipe’s face.

                Sideswipe reached out and tenderly brushed his fingers across Jazz’s lips, sliding easily as they encountered a drop of wetness there. Oh. He had bit his lower lipplate.

                “Well, I know I feel wrecked, so I can’t even imagine how you’re doing. You ok?”

                Jazz’s lips moved, but no sound came out. At the last minute, he remembered that his vocalizer had shorted out so he rebooted it.

                “Yessir,” he managed after several tries.

                “Session’s over,” Sideswipe said, bending his head so that his forehelm rested against Jazz’s. “Your chest closed back over on its own, but from what I could see of your spark, it was normal. Your sparkrate is a little high, but coming down. Temp’s high too, and your coolant levels are low so as soon as you’re able, I want to get some replacement fluids into you.”

                “Help me up?” Jazz asked shakily. Holy slag. That was it? A high temp and low coolants? He felt like he should have had multiple warnings plastered across his HUD informing him he had almost died. Instead there was just the notification about his fluid levels.

                “Yup, just let me grab the coolant.”

                Sideswipe gave Jazz a pat on the chest and then rolled off the berth to walk over to where he had laid a box of supplies when he had first come in. Jazz noticed, with a great deal of satisfaction, Sideswipe wobbled a little with every step he took.

                Once Sideswipe had grabbed the cube of fluids, he came back to the berth and easily propped Jazz up against the wall. The container was held up to Jazz’s lips and Sideswipe cupped the back of Jazz’s helm while carefully tilting the cube toward Jazz’s mouth.

                Jazz let his optic shutters slip closed, savoring the sated hum of Sideswipe’s field and the gentle hands on Jazz’s frame. Overloads were great, but sometimes Jazz thought that this part, the period after the overloads when Sideswipe pampered him, were the best.

                “There. That’s better,” Sideswipe announced after Jazz finished the cube. “Feeling a little more like yourself?”

                Jazz blinked wearily at Sideswipe. “Mmhmm.”

                Sideswipe made an unhappy noise and sat down cross legged at Jazz’s side, facing him. “Hey, now. You should be using _more_ words, not less.”

                “Sorry,” Jazz murmured, letting his head fall back to rest against the wall. “You broke me a little.”

                Sideswipe frowned, tensing. Jazz immediately reached out to touch the top of Sideswipe’s nearest hand.

                “Not like that. It was good. I didn’t know my spark could do that,” he explained. “I’m still feeling aftershocks.”

                “No pain?” Sideswipe inquired, relaxing a fraction.

                “None,” Jazz said truthfully. “My spark feels… swollen? But I ain’t getting any pings.”

                Sideswipe reached out and pressed a palm against the plating covering Jazz’s spark. “Good. That’s the way it should be.”

                “Did my spark… overload?” Jazz asked hesitantly. “It kinda felt like it did.”

                “Mmm, not really. You stimulate a spike and/or a valve until the built up charge results in an overload. You can do the same with the spark alone, but most mechs don’t because it’s so much more intense,” Sideswipe explained. “Also more room for injury.”

                “What did you do to Sunstreaker to learn all this?” Jazz asked, curious.

                 The twins and Jazz had long ago worked out the details of the unique relationship that existed between them. Jazz cared for Sideswipe as a friend, but came to him regularly for sessions such as these, no strings attached. Sideswipe’s spark would always belong to his brother and vice versa, but he felt a strong attachment to and responsibility for Jazz that Sunstreaker tolerated with grace. And Jazz didn’t play with Sunstreaker often or directly, but over time, a close friendship had developed between the two of them, surprising them both.

                 “Ah ah! That’s telling,” Sideswipe said with a wink. “You’re welcome to ask him yourself, though. I know how you two like to chat.”

                  Jazz nodded, intrigued. He was definitely open to more spark play if it all felt as good as today did. “I’ll do that.”

                 “Now, come ‘ere,” Sideswipe said, sliding his arms around Jazz and pulling him atop Sideswipe’s chest as the frontliner fell backwards onto the berth. He lounged atop the pillows there, arranging Jazz to his liking – Sideswipe’s chest to Jazz’s back and his head resting atop Sideswipe’s shoulder. “I want my cuddles.”

                  Jazz went willingly enough, both of them knowing that as soon as Sideswipe fell into recharge, Jazz would slither out of Sideswipe’s arms to lay beside him. For now though, he knew it was important to Sideswipe to be able to feel the thump of Jazz’s spark through their combined plating.

                  As if needing extra reassurance, Sideswipe’s hand crept back across Jazz’s armor, resting lightly over his spark.

                  “I’m fine,” Jazz said, patting Sideswipe’s hand. He let himself relax against Sideswipe and offlined his optics, feeling exhaustion begin to creep on him. 

                  “Anything you would change?” Sideswipe inquired, petting Jazz’s chestplates.

                  “Hmm… I didn’t like the mess under my visor. Otherwise, everything was great. That wedge is pretty awesome,” Jazz commented.

                  “Yeah, sorry about that that,” Sideswipe replied. “The angle your head was at just made for a natural path down your face.”

                  “You _do_ leak a lot,” Jazz said with a grin, squirming until he could look up at Sideswipe. “Maybe you should have Ratchet take a look.”

                  “Frag you,” Sideswipe said cheerfully and tweaked one of Jazz’s audial horns. “Stop being so damn hot, and I won’t have that problem.”

                  Jazz stretched, arms snaking above his head. He sensually arched his back and caressed one of Sideswipe’s own audial sensors. Sideswipe’s engine rumbled beneath Jazz, sending pleasant vibrations through his sore hips and back. “Hmmm. Well, that’s not gonna happen, so I guess I’ll just have to learn to tolerate the mess.”

                  “Guess so,” Sideswipe murmured, bending his head to brush his lips over Jazz’s. “Hey – you keep that up, and I’m gonna be ready for the next round.”

                  As tempting as that was, Jazz really _was_ tired. “I’ll be good,” Jazz promised, dropping his arms and resting them around the red ones wrapped around his chest. He slouched so the top of his helm was just under Sideswipe’s chin, anchoring him.

                  “You’re never good,” Sideswipe remarked. “It’s why you’re so fun.”

                  “Likewise,” Jazz murmured, rubbing his cheek against Sideswipe’s chest, optic shutters slipping closed. “I vote for this scenario again.”

                  “Noted,” Sideswipe replied, nuzzling the top of Jazz’s helm. “Me too. Now get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

                  Jazz sighed, stillness settling over him as his systems rapidly shut down one by one. He was warm and comfortable, and maybe for once, it would be ok to fall offline first. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

                  “You’re welcome, Jazz,” Sideswipe’s voice said from far away as recharge finally claimed him. “Whatever you need.”

 

~ End

 

(Not currently part of my Give and Take universe, but potentially could be far in the future. The threesome kinda snuck in, because I've been paying so much attention to Sunstreaker lately that he was moping when he discovered he was left out of this. :)


End file.
